


The Last Mohawk

by akamine_chan



Category: Hard Core Logo (1996)
Genre: Community: ds_snippets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-12
Updated: 2009-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had tickets to see D.O.A. at the Commodore and Billy was running late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Mohawk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LiveJournal Community ds_snippets
> 
> Notes: Unbeta'd. Note that in the "old days" many a punk would use unflavored gelatin to achieve an upright mohawk. Glue was most often used, but some early punks preferred the gelatin. Jell-O works, but it tends to dye the hair (sometimes that's what you want) and make you smell fruity. After a day or so, you start to smell pretty rancid, which didn't bother most "real" punks...*g*
> 
> Prompt: Jell-O

They had tickets to see D.O.A. at the Commodore.

Billy was running late because some asswipe down at the gas station decided to pump 'n' run. It pissed Billy off and then the boss made him call the cops and answer all their stupid questions: description of the suspect (_Tall, white, blond hair, I guess_), description of the car (_Some kind of big pickup truck, brown, dunno, a Ford?_), license plate (_Um, there were some letters, and some numbers. A five, I think. And a "p". Maybe_).

So he got back to the apartment, slamming open the door and bellowing for Joe to get his ass moving, or they were going to miss the opening band. He shucked off his stupid logo'd work clothes and raced to get into his rattiest jeans and torn t-shirt as he listened to Joe bitching from the bathroom about what an asshole Billy was.

"Fuck off, Joe, it wasn't my fault." He sat down on their broken couch to pull on his boots. "Had to call the cops again."

Joe's answer was muffled and indistinct.

"Whatever, man," Billy muttered under his breath, squinting against the smoke from his cigarette. "Let's go, Joe!"

The bathroom door swung open and Joe swaggered out, fuck-you attitude clear in the lift of his chin and the height of his Mohawk. Billy grinned, and then sniffed suspiciously. Joe reeked of artificially flavored grape. He laughed at Joe's disgruntled expression.

"Fuck you, Bill. I ran out of glue. And hair spray."

"So you used Jell-O?"

Joe shot him the bird. "Yeah. Let's go. We're late." He threw his arm around Billy's skinny shoulders and pulled him out of the apartment. They had a show to see.

-fin-


End file.
